


A Long Way from Where We Began

by Thatkindghost



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Gen, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkindghost/pseuds/Thatkindghost
Summary: Della shows up to Donald's houseboat early one morning and asks him to watch her kids for the weekend. She never comes back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first DuckTales fic! I wanted to explore Donalds thoughts after Della abandons her children in his care and even why. Thanks for reading!

Donald never expected to fall in love, or start a family, or really be anything other than a sailor who owed his heart to the sea and his life to his nation to use as they see fit. No, no- that stuff was more suited to his sister Della, he’d reason. She was the alpha twin, after all, with the world at her feet ready to conquer and a determined glint in her eye that reassured anyone who questioned her ability that she was capable. Donald set his sights low, enlisting in the military before even attempting college, watching Della's acceptance letters come in by the pile while his own lonely deployment letter arrived early one morning without much fuss.

Uncle scrooge was against it from the beginning, insisting in many of his backhanded way that Donald would be of much better use accompanying him on adventures. It was an option Donald had carefully considered, but after setting up his life around the idea of being a sailor- after telling everyone he was enlisting… well, he wouldn’t want to lower their standards anymore by backing out of his one commitment in his life. So he shipped out, his immediate family there to see him off, and stayed gone for four years.

He got shore leave occasionally, but the boat he served on rarely passed by close enough for a trip home. He’d made it up for Christmas his first year, but his luck had never been in his favor and he’d spent most of his holidays alone in his bunk. He loved the ocean, he did, but sometimes waking up to the cold gray sea left him empty and hollow.

After four years of dedicated service, he came home. The transition was awkward- and he found himself lying awake in the dead of the night tossing and turning and aching for the feel of the boat rocking beneath him with the steady lull of waves. Even the stale air of his old room, safe and smothered by his parents, felt stifling against the sharp salt and freeze of the air he was used to. So he scrounged up every dime he could and ended up buying a houseboat- the first step onto unsteady ground was like coming home. He decided it would be a good a time as any to take his Uncle Scrooge up on his earlier proposition, and began adventuring in earnest with him.

The skills he’d learned in the military helped him match up to Scrooge’s experience, and together they became some of the most daring explorers the world has ever known.

It was during one of the many gaps between adventures that Donald saw his twin again, for the first time in ages, as she knocked politely on his door. Er, well, politely in this case means sharp, succinct, and incredibly early. Stumbling to the door, Donald didn’t even pause to check the peephole before he threw it open, glaring at whoever had decided to interrupt his slumber- only to be met with three beautiful, incredibly small ducklings swaddled nice and neat in a stroller.

“Hello, Donald! It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?” Della smiles, pushing past him and onto the boat, “I’m afraid I haven’t got much time to catch up- you see, I’ve got a new adventure of my own to go on! Just like you and Uncle Scrooge.”

Donald had known Della had finished up school and become one of the most sought after pilots of their generation- his mother had made sure he was caught up on his sister's life each time she called- but never once had she mentioned, well, children! Let alone a beau his sister was interested in.

He had a million questions instantly, but only managed a weak, “What time is it?” instead of several more pressing matters.

Della shook her head, dropping a large duffel bag on Donald's couch, “It’s only 5am! I know you sailors have woken up earlier than that!”

“I’m not a sailor anymore, i can sleep as late as I like-” Donald started before shaking his head. Right. Priorities. “Della, what do you mean you’ve got a new adventure? And Whose ducklings are these?” They were sleeping soundly in their stroller, each wrapped in a bright signature color: red, blue, and green.

“I mean space, Donald! I’m going to be part of a team of pilots to go to space and orbit the earth! Which i why I need you to watch these three!” She took him by the arm and brought him over to get a closer look, “They’re my children, Donald. Triplets! While I’m gone, I know you’re the right person to trust to look after my boys.”

Donald gazed down at the children, confusion and affection clashing in his head. They were the most beautiful things he’d ever laid eyes upon, and in an instant he was certain he’d do everything in his power to protect them from harm. Della's words finally processed and he pulled away, twisting to face her, “You’re leaving? For how long?”

She didn’t look at him, “I know they’re triplets, and it might be confusing, so here’s how I remember which is which! Huebert, I call him Huey, he’s wrapped in red, which is the brightest hue! Then there’s lovely Deuteronomy, or Dewey, blue like morning dew! And my baby Louis, green like leaves. Louie and leaves both start with the same letter, you see!” she explained, pointing to each one in turn.

“Della, How long?” He asks again, a red flag bright and brilliant flashing as she avoided the question.

“Only for the weekend,” She blurts, looking at the floor before jumping to attention and darting over to her discarded duffel bag, “But I- I brought you all the things you’ll need! Diapers, formula, bottles- everything! And if you need anymore, well, I left you my address and spare key in the notebook here!” She says, fishing it out to toss it to him.

It’s just short of a miracle that he managed to catch it before it beaned him between the eyes, “Wait, Della slow down-”

“Oh Donald,” She says, standing to embrace him, “I know this is sudden, and I’m sorry for that. I was notified this morning when my launch time was, I had no time to prepare. It hurts me to leave my boys even for a moment, but I know they’ll be happy with you.” She pulls back, and she gives him a look that feels like it means something more that she’s letting on. “Please, will you look after them?”

“Of course, they’re my nephews!” He says, and the words feel heavy in his mouth.

“Thank you!” She grins, embracing him again, before pulling away to say goodbye to her children, “Mommy has to go away for a bit, my boys! Now you be good little ducklings for your Uncle, alright? I love you each so much. Goodbye.”

He sees her wipe away tears, before standing back to full height and turning to leave. Donald wants to say something, wants to ask her what she'd hiding or if she's hiding anything at all because it has all been happening so fast and so absolute- almost like she wasn't sure she would be back. She gets to the door and opens it, before stopping and turning around, “I- uh. I left you some parenting books you might find useful.”

“Thank you, Della. It was nice to see you again.” He smiles, a little overwhelmed and suspicious and fit to burst with bright warmth and affection for the tiny bundles fast asleep only feet away. He'd never known it was possible to love some one so completely at the first glance, and now he'd experienced it three times over, “I’ll see you in a few days?”

She smiles sadly and looks away, towards the ocean, “Goodbye, Donald.”

The door closes.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days pass and Donald knows she isn’t coming back. It’s not really a concrete certainty he can feel with his hands, but a sureness in the back of his head as the clock ticks later and later and her car never pulls up to the docks. They were twins, after all, and he liked to think he knew what his sister was thinking- though their days of finishing each other's sentences had ended the moment their sibling relationship had turned into a rivalry. He decides he can’t sit around doing nothing, and goes to her house.

It’s a quaint thing, not to loud or luxurious even though Della could certainly afford it. He unlocked the door quietly and pushes the triplets stroller through. The living room isn’t much to look at, but it’s elegant in it’s minimalism. Coffee table, couch, television, a couple of bookshelves, average things you'd expect to see- but sitting neatly on the coffee table is a stack of letters and a thick manila folder.

He goes through the folder first, and it’s all the necessary paper the triplets will ever need. Birth certificates, social security cards, immunization records, things of that sort all piled together and wrapped up nice and tidy for him to come find. The letter are anything from bills, purposefully left unopened, to a letter from her neighborhood association about a barbecue. Looking around the room, there’s no toys or other scattered baby things about. Nothing to suggest children even lived here in the first place.

Tossing the pile of letters haphazardly back onto the table, he heads towards the hallway where the rooms are. He open the first door on his left- it’s what’s left of a nursery. The walls are painted a pale mint green on three walls, the fourth forgotten and white. There’s a rocking chair, and a box that has a picture of a crib on the inside that Donald assumes is a crib Della never put together. There’s scattered toys, a baby changing station off to the side awkwardly, and several baby clothes all sorted into red, blue, and green piles.

The next room is the bathroom (all the toiletries are taken.) The final room is, what he can only guess, Della's room. The walls are a soft light beige, the bed frame dark wood with a blue bed spread and several pillows. This is the only room that’s a slight mess, there’s a rolling desk chair piled high with clean clothes, dirty clothes are congregated in another pile on the floor. Books upon books are piled up on the night stand next to her bed, some even spilling over onto the floor. Diapers are stacked on the floor next to the bed, along with stuffed animals. There’s a vase of dying flowers on her dresser.

He can see the books from the doorway- volumes on postpartum depression, psychological birth trauma, baby blues, and countless others all about the negative psychological effects of birth. Donald knows without being told that there had been no mission to space, he knows that Dellas good bye only 3 days ago had been a goodbye forever. He closes the door, returns to the living room and picks up her landline and simply reports his sister as a runaway.

There are times when he wonders why? How? These children, these little beings of light and joy and youth, they’re so small and lovely and he can’t believe she didn’t want to watch them grow up. It burns in the deepest pit of his soul to know she left them behind and he wonders what he’d do if he saw her again? Yell, probably. Cry, definitely.

There are time, however, where he lays in bed at 3 am and listens as one wail turns into two and then three. He wonders then, how Della would have felt? If perhaps she’d have turned her back to the sound, maybe thrown a pillow over her head? Or maybe, in pitch black darkness, she’d heard the sound of her children crying and had searched in the night for light. For help. and hadn’t found any. Maybe she had started crying too.

Scrooge calls, demanding his attention, another adventure! Donald looks at the three children sleeping soundly on his bed, cushioned carefully so they won't get hurt, and says no. Scrooge says something back and, well, when you weave a tapestry there are many different threads that make up one beautiful image. The threads in this story, however, come together to form more of a modern tragedy of loneliness and loss. There are many things that happen in Donald's life, some extraordinary feats of daring adventure and some as mundane and boring as taking up an extra job as a janitor. one day he hangs up the phone with Uncle scrooge’s caller ID flashing dully back at him and vows never to call him again. It is just another string cut short, like Dellas, but this time at his own command.

The triplets grow up with him and only him, his parents pass away before they can really become part of their life, and he does the best he can. He picks up odd jobs and normal jobs when he can, often working two or three or even four at a time to make it work. He buys them clothes and food and everything they could ever need. He is not perfect, and it haunts him.

Huey grew up too soon, he takes too much responsibility for his brothers. Dewey is attention starved, constantly doing everything he can to be seen and valued as an individual. Louie hunches his shoulders and makes himself small and scoffs at his own abilities.

Sometime, in the dead of night or the early morning, when he's dragging himself home from another long shift or waking up too early to make his children breakfast before he leaves he thinks that yes, he may not be perfect- but at least he was here. His sister's presence is a hole in his chest.

It’s no excuse, he knows this, and it doesn’t fix the glaring mistakes he’s made but it’s a small comfort.

At least he bothered to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
